"Come with us," they said to him
"we'll make you a man."
Just a poor child,
his toys sticks and sand.

But they gave him a gun,
and taught him to kill.
His mind filled with hate,
they urged him still.

Pictures were taken,
with his rifle aimed high.
Slung it over his boyish shoulders,
and took bets on who would die.

"That way." they pointed,
their mouths stank of greed
"They are not like you.
Go and do our deeds."

His enemy was strong,
they towered over his frame.
But he would never run,
he couldn't bear the shame.

And so he chraged,
while so many around him died.
He hoped only that his actions,
would earn his father's pride.

Close now, the enemy loomed,
he could see the nails caked in mud
And he pulled the trigger.
He saw the explosion of blood.

He didn't think twice.
He killed another and another
A father fell, then a brother,
followed closely by a mother.

Another shot rang out
he felt the pain in his neck.
He gripped it hard
But could not keep his blood in check.

And so this eight year old boy,
that they had made a "man",
Died in a distant village,
surrounded by sticks and sand.

-?